If I could drop dead right now, I'd be the happiest man alive. ~ Samuel Goldwyn

Wait Until Your Father Gets Home

Read this:
http://www.lewrockwell.com/orig4/featherstone3.html

And then this:
Our Father, the State. After having read Charles H. Featherstone’s excellent article on the same, I’m still a little confused. Clearly, allowing ourselves to be manipulated in the name of parenthood, by the state, is beyond idiotic. But how would one go about tearing loose of those ironclad apron strings without the benefit of a blowtorch? Every single thing we do is regulated. We begin by being “registered” and given a number. We are put on a schedule of immunizations, and when thrown into the public school system we are initially branded suitable, based on our rigid adherence to said schedule. We cannot do anything without our registration number and proof of submission. Not without a fight, anyway. So on we go. We give birth to our babies, sign them up and wait for opportunity to throw them out. Why should we think they would grow up to do anything but the same? This is such a basic and intrinsic part of our society, leading to parents uttering the words (right in front of their child), “God, I can’t wait until he starts school so he will be out from under my feet!” We put them in varying regimented institutions, thinking we have opted for some measure of freedom by “choosing” public or private (and even home) schools. But it’s all regulated. Our big daddy is watching us. (While we have been worrying about big brother, our daddy has enlarged to gargantuan proportions.) There is so much more going on, but there’s no need to go into it here. It’s just more of the same. Maybe in a different color, waving a different banner, wearing a different T-shirt. The long and short of it is, why are we amazed at the “daddy party” mentality, when it’s a true reflection of our own parenting? Yikes, indeed. We are sacrificing our children for our own sakes and we’ve been doing it so long, they don’t even bother to scream anymore.